Kickflip
by I n k i n m y h e a r t
Summary: Gail Perry didn't know what was going on with her best friends, but she did realize that she was losing them. Gail finds she's vulnerable and alone, without Stiles and Scott. It's a slippery slope, as she begins to fall into a mental breakdown. With her mother's persistence, Stiles comes to help and finds a side to Gail that he hadn't really known existed, before. Stiles/OC.
1. Chapter 01: Woe

Please, enjoy and review!

* * *

**Chapter 01:** Woe**.**

_I can see the ground far below; I have this breathe, and I hold it tight and I keep it in my chest, with all my might…_ "**Between Two Lungs**," by Florence + the Machine.

* * *

It had been nearly seventy hours, (and counting) since the ashes of Isas Perry had been relinquished to the forest. Four years had passed; a long coming verdict leveled, in response to his gruesome passing. His widow, Mona, had calmly led their only child – a seventeen year old daughter – to the property, where his remains would rest. Mona had found inner peace, long ago, at the vice of her bakery. It had accompanied his career; the danger.

Isas had been a good officer; serving with some of the best men in Beacon Hills' county, under the watchful eye of their good friend, Sheriff Stilinski. His death was not in vane, in the end. It only pained Mona that their baby girl, Gail, was forced to face her father's absence.

Consumed by the chill and musky scent of the forest, the ashes had slipped smoothly from between Gail's fingers; swept up the fall breeze. A deep anguish; laced with paranoia and panic, had blossomed within her chest. It had not passed, with time. After the emotional scarring of her father's death, she had been frequently plagued by panic attacks; no amount of medication or therapy able to rid them. With time, they became infrequent, but the final farewell to her father had brought them back, full force.

Curled up in bed, swaddled in her favorite pajamas, Gail shifted at the beep signaling an incoming text. Reaching for the small device, on her side table, she opened it smoothly and felt slight relief, at the sight of a text from one of her best friends. Scott McCall had been one of her best friends, for years; Mrs. McCall and Mona members of the same book club. He had become distant, in the past year; preferring the company of their mutual best friend Stiles and the pretty, new girl, Allison. Scott asked Gail to meet him at Stiles locker, listing the number and an: _I promise, we'll be there_.

Responding; she agreed and rolled over, snuggling into the confines of her bedding and awaiting sleep. She wasn't ready for the next day; for going back to school, facing another year of bland classes and early mornings, or marking off another year of lost youth.

* * *

The first day of school came strenuously, foreboding mundane promises.

"Welcome back to Beacon Hills, Miss Perry," Goaded the Vice-Principal, grimacing at the cherub-faced ginger in trepidation. "Do try to avoid my office, this year."

Gail winked; her thin lips quirking at the edges, pronouncing her dimples. "No promises, ma'am, but I'll try my best."

"I'll hold you to that." The Vice-Principal murmured, turning on her out-dated kitten heels to approach a nearby teacher watching the bus students arrive. Gail hissed under her breath, swiftly sticking her tongue out at the elder woman's back, before hurrying into the school at the sight of the approaching mass of students.

Looking around for her friends, she hiked her purse strap higher up her shoulder. The first day, and they were already later than they'd promised. Rolling her eyes; she reminded herself that boys were never to be relied on to be punctual, consider she was rarely on time, herself. Her best friends had been acting strange for months, though, and it was starting to grate on her nerves. The previous school year, she hadn't been too bothered by their absence, it kept her away from less trouble than she naturally attracted, but she'd grown lonely without their company or confidences.

She'd felt like a third wheel, since all of the secrets had started.

Leaning against the locker she had already been informed as Stiles', she allowed gravity to pull her down, into an ungraceful seated position. The Golden Trio, as Scott's ex-girlfriend Allison had called them, were not quite as _golden_ as they had been. After the secrets had begun, so had last minute cancellations and being stood up. Scott and Stiles always seemed to have time for Allison and Lydia, but Gail reasoned that as their supposed "other" best friend, she came last on the list of priorities. Despite her highly obvious assets, she never registered beyond being a "bro" to them – it was a moot point, to try and compete with those gorgeous girls.

While Lydia's personality was the polar opposite of her appearance; Allison was as sweet as she was beautiful, and too kind for Gail to find a fault large enough to dislike. Groaning softly, she pulled her purse around her side to her lap, and reached in, sifting through it for her schedule. She may as well try to memorize her classes, while she waited for somebody she knew to show up. Being friends with Scott and Stiles, for years, had left her oblivious and vaguely unaware of the numerous unfamiliar faces passing her. Were there really that many students, at Beacon Hills High School?

Gail couldn't recall; Stiles had always been the apple of her eye, she felt almost weary to admit to herself. Highly stimulated, anxious, sloppy Stiles; the freaky, immature guy, who frequently paraded around her house, wearing her bras over his shirt, taunting her about her feminine decolletage and insinuating that she dress to display her bust better than she did, because she was "stacked like a brick house," as he had crudely stated.

Why she had come to feel such a deep, sincere love for him… She didn't quite know. While he pranced around after Lydia, who conveniently shunted his advances at every turn, Gail was left to pick up the pieces and bite her tongue, every time that Stiles felt the need to confide in her that it did, actually, bother him that she treated him the way she did. Oh, but he always crawled back, falling right into old habits. It wasn't like that, anymore, though.

Stiles hadn't spoken to her about anything of consequence in months. Long before Summer Break had approached, not long after everything had begun to swirl into a strange conundrum of unanswered questions and half-assed excuses. The text messages had become infrequent, Stiles only texting her when he needed something, and Scott hadn't texted her that entire Summer, until the night before school began, when he'd asked her to meet them in front of Stiles locker, like they had _every_ year, since they began middle school. She hadn't even seen them, during the Break. Not around town, not at her mother's bakery, (a place they used to frequent, in search of being Mona Louis-Perry's personal taste testers) and not at either of their houses, when she'd dropped by, concerned. Sheriff Stilinski hadn't been around, when Gail had visited the house, nor had Stiles'; Mrs. McCall had been home, when she went by Scott's, but she knew nothing of the boy's shunning of their other third and had only offered Gail a cup of tea and biscuits, alongside the company Gail had missed from her friends.

Shaking the train of thought from her mind, Gail yanked her schedule swiftly from its spot, jam-packed between two thick notebooks. Unfolding it carelessly, she sighed, staring dismally at the morose year that was likely to be her last year of high school. Five AP classes; Chemistry; Dual-Enrollment English; Study Hall… her mind ached, at the thought of all the work to come. Wasn't senior year supposed to be fun and enjoyable, rather than strenuous and mind-numbing hard work? Rubbing her eyes tiredly, she didn't bother about the little make-up she had bothered to wear, already regretting the end of Summer Break.

Not to mention, where the flying fuck were Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall? They needed to arrive, quickly, or they were dead men walking. Gail glanced at her wrist watch, sighing. Three minutes to the bell, and still, no sign. Pulling herself from her seat in front of Stiles' locker, she stuffed her schedule back into her purse and squared her shoulders, taking a deep breath and mentally trying to build her self-confidence.

She didn't quite know what to do with herself, without Stiles and Scott, but… She damn well was going to do it neatly, and in style. _Or else_, her thoughts clenched out, her own teeth grinding. Gail Perry was not going to be boring, ignored or friendless. Not for her last year of high school, even if it meant befriending one very frivolous, overbearing Lydia Martin.

Sliding her hands into the slim pockets on the side of her well-fitted jersey wrap skirt, she put one foot in front of the other, her wedges thudding dully with each precarious step, and consciously hoped that she looked half-way as good as Lydia did, when she strutted around like a goddamn runway model in her designer clothes and perfect everything.

Don't be a jealous cow, Gail reminded herself, forcing an oblivious smile and arching her eyebrows confidently. Chin held high, cheeks held higher. Time to be grown-up Gail, not timid girl Gail…

Entering her first class, she slid into a seat in the middle, eyeing the teacher patiently as the bell began to ring. Students filed in, small clusters forming around her. Gail frowned, looking her classmates over curiously. She recognized one of them from the Lacrosse team, but she couldn't recall his name, and she didn't know anyone else, in the class. He wasn't someone that Stiles and Scott were particularly fond or disdainful towards.

The final bell rang, and Gail felt a wave of sadness lap over her, at the realization that Stiles and Scott had broken another one of their many promises. She hoped that it had been worth it, because she wasn't quite sure how much longer she'd be capable of handling their crap. Accepting the syllabus from the student in front of her, she passed the stack back, vaguely aware of the smarmy teacher's introduction and mundane lecture.

It was going to be a very, very long day. She could already tell. Leaning forward, she propped her head against her hand and tried not to doze off, staring aimlessly at the peeling area of wall above the whiteboard.

* * *

_I'm sorry_, was the only thing Gail had received, in a text message, by her last period. They hadn't shown up at lunch, and they were nowhere to be found in the one class she had with them: Chemistry. What's worse; was that it hadn't even been _Scott_ to apologize, who had made the promise, to begin with. It had been Stiles, and a hastily sent one, at that. He hadn't even used his usual proper grammar, or punctuation.

Stiles, who hadn't spoken to her in months, had given her two crappy, misspelled words as a form of repentance.

Slamming her AP Psychology textbook, Gail huffed, crossing her arms over her lace camisole, wrapping her pastel cardigan tighter around herself. She'd worn the stupid outfit for Stiles, in a last minute attempt to bring forth approval, and to rectify what little of a bond they still shared. She thought he'd have been proud of her, wearing an outfit she'd never have previously even glanced at. She felt that she'd come a long way from ratty tennis shoes, ripped skater jeans and unflattering T's, of previous years. It had taken her all Summer Break to collect her new wardrobe, with her mom's acute eye to guide her into the realm of "feminine", something Gail had rarely dared to venture.

She knew that other students were gossiping about her, too. It wasn't kind things, but the sort of things that Gail had used to scoff at, before the gossip had become a reality. "McCall's second lost lamb," a sophomore had rudely mocked her as, in the library. The girl hadn't known that Gail was present, just one aisle over. "What a loser, I mean, just look at her – where did she get her outfit from, Lydia's cast off pile?"

Gail wasn't quite sure what had hurt more, the first girl's off-handed comment, or the reply from her friend that hit sharply and made Gail feel as if she could cry. Gail Perry did not cry, ever, in front of people. Gail Perry rarely cried, at that. And, only when alone, like the time she'd broken her foot and dislocated her hip, during Track season, or the time that Stiles had taken Lydia to the previous Homecoming as his date. It took a great deal to make her cry, and a snide remark should not be one of them.

Blinking away tears, Gail swung her bag onto her shoulder and scooped up her textbook, rushing out of the library. She was done, for the day. Vice-Principal be damned, she was ready to go home and take a long shower.

Rushing out to her car, she unlocked it quickly and slid into the older Volkswagen, slamming her door and jamming the key into the ignition. Gail only vaguely remembered the rest, her mind only catching up to her body fully, once she was inside her house. She felt as if the bright blue walls of the foyer were taunting her, closing in on her, swirling around her in clandestine wave lengths. Dropping her bag on the grey bench, she kicked her wedges under it and carefully stepped on the cold granite, tiredly wobbling into the darkened kitchen. The walls still caved in on her, shifting and moving, the pale yellow and white wallpaper swerving in front of her eyes, panic ballooning in her chest.

Gail reached for the counter top her hands sliding past it, her head knocking against the cabinet. She stumbled back, trying to find her balance. Slipping on the floor, she fell onto her behind, tears welling on her eyes.

It felt like nothing, at all, was alright.


	2. Chapter 02: Fuddle

Please, enjoy and review!

* * *

**Chapter 02: **Fuddle**.**

_You went back to what you knew, ao far removed from all that we went through and I tread a troubled track; my odds are stacked_... "**Back to Black**," by Amy Whinehouse_. _**  
**

* * *

Thump, thump, thump. Head pounding; eyes aching; stiff back. Gail could feel her heart falling in beat, with the tick of the clock above the stove. Her mind raced, frustration seeping deep within the pit of her stomach. Who did they think they were?

Gail felt utterly alone; literally and figuratively, due to her mother's presence at the bakery across town, rather than home. There was a bump forming on her head, stinging. What an awful first day of school. What was so important, to Scott and Stiles, that they didn't even show up to school? They didn't even miss school to play video games, despite Stiles morbid addiction to shooting Nazis, on his console.

Did Stiles even obsess over shooting Nazis attacking him through the TV, anymore? Gail wasn't sure; it had been so long, since she'd last had an _actual_ conversation, with him. Did Stiles still love Lydia? Did Scott still favor brownies to chocolate chip cookies? Did Scott still need an inhaler?

Gail wondered if she even knew her best friends, anymore.

It drove her crazy, to know that they kept so much from her, without even a hint as to what it was. She didn't use to question it; Scott and Stiles always had her best interests, at heart, but it had been nearly a year. Was there no end, to the spinning web of lies? Would they ever be honest and open up, about their alternative lives? All Gail knew for certain, was that it all tied together with the recent trail of crimes and the Hale family.

Somehow, a few other students were involved, too, but Gail didn't know any of them.

Gail didn't know a lot of things, she realized, with anger. Clenching her hands; she let her short, heavily bitten nails dig at the skin of her palms. The phone in her pocket beeped, repeatedly, the ringtone for Scott flooding throughout the kitchen.

Clawing at the pocket of her skirt, she dug it out and silenced the call. Releasing a frustrated growl, she tossed the phone across the room and watched with satisfaction, as it bounced off the cabinet and fell to the floor. Heaving herself from the floor, she padded out of the room and made her way upstairs, yanking clothes off as she went.

* * *

"She's not answering." Scott sighed, looking up from his phone, at the sound of Gail's voice mail.

Stiles shrugged, frowning. "We ditched school; I can't imagine she's the happiest camper, right now."

"Gail always answers, though." Scott reasoned.

"Not this time, obviously." Stiles snorted.

* * *

Steam trailed out of the bathroom door, filling the bedroom with a sweet aroma. Wrapping a towel around her hair, Gail opened her curtains; allowing light from outside to fill the room. Adjusting her T; she flopped down onto her bed, reaching for a book on her bedside table. Calm settled over her, the finality of everything slightly less overwhelming, after a long bath. She wasn't happy with Scott and Stiles, still, but she was reaching a peaceful acceptance of their choices.

They'd been her best friends, for years, and they had been a constant support for her, when her dad had died. She hadn't told them that she'd gone with her mom to release her dad's ashes, but they hadn't really been around to tell. Both parties were at fault, in the end.

She was still annoyed with them for standing her up, though.

Stiles may have texted her, but that didn't mean much, when a text the moment they decided not to come, would have been better timed.

Sighing, she curled up, against her pillow. Opening the book, she turned to the page she'd bookmarked and began reading, allowing the imaginary world to pull her in. Life needed to be put on pause, for now.

If she felt better, later, she would call Scott back.

* * *

"Do you think she's alright?" Scott asked, worried. It had been three hours, since he'd called Gail and she hadn't responded.

"As long as she's not dead in a ditch, for sure…" Stiles answered, off handedly, eyes focused on the TV. He cheered, as he killed a zombie; his score doubling. Scott groaned, running a hand over his eyes.

"Don't joke about that, Stiles."

"What? I thought it was pretty hilarious. Chill, Scott. She's probably doing some girly crap, or something."

"Gail never does 'girly crap.'"

"You haven't seen her underwear collection, have you?"

Scott stared at him, bemused, "And you have?"

Stiles grinned, leveling up in his video game.

* * *

"Gail, I'm home! Why is your phone on the kitchen floor?" Mona called up the stairs, her daughter's phone in hand. There was a long scratch on the screen, and it chirped, alerting of a low battery. Gail sat up, closing the book, and made her way towards the stairs.

"I forgot it, sorry!" Gail laughed, taking the phone from her mom's hand and hugging the elder woman. "How was work?"

"Good, we finished this week's orders. The cake for the wedding on Wednesday came out beautifully. You should just see it! Oh, they marzipan flowers are gorgeous." Mona reminisced, lighting up at the thought of her bakery.

"Send me a picture of it, tomorrow?" Gail asked, smiling.

"Of course, sweetie," Mona nodded. "What do you feel like for dinner, tonight? I was thinking we could have salmon."

"Anything sounds good, mom. I'm starving."

"I'm sure you are, after your day! How was school? How are our boys?" Mona asked, in reference to Scott and Stiles, as she headed for the kitchen.

Gail followed, "It was long. Stiles and Scott never came. They were busy with something, I guess."

Mona frowned, glancing over her shoulder, as she opened the fridge. "I'm sure they'll be back, tomorrow. Think of all you have to catch up on! Are you excited to show them your 'new look'?"

Gail fidgeted with her phone, reading the texts from Scott. "I don't know, anymore, mom. I was really excited, to see how they would react, seeing me all girly. But, you know… I just dunno. They probably won't even notice a difference."

"They'll notice, Gail," Mona stated. "They notice everything about you, sweetie. You mean the world to them. Scott and Stiles are not whole, without you. They've proved that, several times."

"I hope you're right, mom. I really miss them." Gail sighed, biting her lip.

"Of course, I'm right! I'm your mother." Mona grinned, winking.

* * *

_I'm not happy with you_, Gail texted Scott. _You broke your promise._

_I'm sorry. We're sorry. Stiles will pick you up, tomorrow?_ Scott replied.

_Forgiven. Alright, bring coffee?_

_Stiles shouldn't even be near coffee, G. _

_Scratch that, Scott. A bottle of water will do_,Gail compromised.

_Your wish is my command_, Scott confirmed.

_You're with Stiles, aren't you?_

_Yeah. He says he'll text you, tonight._

_Video games? _Gail asked.

_As always. It's zombies, this week_, Scott responded.

_Oh, man._

* * *

Gail leaned against the counter, watching her mom make dinner. If she was lucky, things would improve, with time. It didn't feel like it would, though.

Optimism never worked out, for people, after all.

Would Scott, Stiles and her _ever_ be close, again?


	3. Chapter 03: Smite

Please, enjoy and review!

* * *

**Chapter 03:** Smite.

_So, can we stop pretending, that the world is never ending? Will you try to find a way to believe? _– "**Bend or Break**," by Allstar Weekend.

* * *

"Good morning, Beacon Hills! It is six am, on the clock and set to be a smoldering mid-ninety degrees out, today. Put on your shorts and sandals, folks. It's not quite fall, just yet. Up next, we have One Directions new song on 96.8 the Judd: 'Live while we're Young!'"

Screaming into her pillow, Gail slammed a hand down on her alarm; already annoyed with world, at the song's opening chords. Did people _really_ desire to listen to awful pop music, at six in the morning? Not even classics, like Blondie or Pat Benatar! Kicking the covers off, Gail flopped over onto her back and blinked against the light peaking through the cracks of her windows' navy drapes. Rubbing her eyes, she grimaced, thinking back on the crap-fest that had been the previous day.

A new day, a new chapter…

Reminding herself that school started in less than two hours, she rolled off the bed, standing and dragging herself into the adjoining bathroom to shower off everything that she felt was weighing her down.

* * *

Smoothing out the stray hairs from her neat top knot with a tick, fresh smelling balm; Gail looked herself over, in the tall mirror attached to her bedroom wall. Her eyes were lined neatly with eyeliner, but bruised from restless sleep. Her skin was fair, a shade too light, for her happy yellow sun dress and grey cardigan. Two blue-green eyes stared back at her, through the reflection; shiny and moist, but mute of emotion.

Smiling at herself, Gail felt disconcerted, when it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Gail, breakfast is ready!" Mona called, from downstairs, jolting her daughter into motion. Grabbing her nude flats from on top of the un-made bed, Gail hustled downstairs, to a plate of freshly made muffins and a jug of orange juice. Sliding into her chair, at the small kitchen table, she grinned at Mona and reached quickly for a muffin.

"These look great, mom." Gail complimented, quickly peeling the wrapper from around the bottom and taking a bite.

"Why thank you, sweetie. They're your grandmother's recipe." Mona smiled, thinking of the elder woman in Louisiana fondly.

"Really?" Gail asked, after swallowing.

Mona nodded, "Yes. Now, you'll want to hurry up. Stiles called about ten minutes ago, he's on his way."

Gail looked up, wide eyed, "_Really_?"

* * *

Gail jumped, when she heard the front door slam shut and the heavy foot-fall approaching, who she assumed belonged to Stiles and Scott.

"I smell food!" Came the pitchy proclamation of said Stilinski, as they rounded the corner; a grin pulled at his thin cheeks, his short hair spiked, eyes scoping out the room. He bounded for the table, flopping into the chair next to Gail, muffin halfway to his mouth, when he nodded to her in greeting. "Hi, G…"

Scott followed behind, eyes flicking around, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans as he slunk into the room.

"Stiles, Scott," Gail sighed. "Welcome back, to the land of the living."

Scott winced, opening his mouth to respond, as he sat down in Mona's spot.

"We've been alive, G," Stiles grimaced. "We just haven't been acting like the best friend, ever."

"Yeah, no kidding…" She huffed.

"Don't be that way, now. I didn't mean to disappear on you, I swear! Things just became really busy and I thought you would be fine. I'm sorry, Gail," Stiles apologized, setting down his half-eaten muffin. "I'll try to be a better friend, from now on."

"We don't try to be bad friends, G. Things have just been… intense." Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair, before reaching for a muffin.

Gail looked at him, confused, "What do you mean?"

"Some things have been happening, that needed to be taken care of." Stiles explained.

"Oh."

"Yeah…"

"I'm glad you came, this morning, guys."

"Me too, Perry, me too… You ready to head out?" Stiles asked.

"Just about," Gail nodded, standing, brushing crumbs off of her dress.

Scott eyed her over, raising a curious eyebrow, "Nice outfit."

Gail smiled, shrugging and walked towards the foyer, pausing at the stairs to yell to Mona: "Mom, we're off to school! I love you!"

Stiles followed after, one muffin half-crammed in his mouth, another in his right hand. His keys jingled in his left hand. A muffled goodbye was thrown over his shoulder. Scott took up the rear, pausing to wave goodbye to Mona and closing the door, behind him.

* * *

"Where were you and Scott, yesterday, anyways?" Gail finally asked, once they were in the Jeep.

Stiles exhaled, annoyed with himself. "Don't go there, G..,"

"Oh..,"

"I'm sorry that we can't tell you more, Gail." Scott frowned, glancing at her.

"It's alright, Scotty. I get it." Gail forced a smile, before turning to look out the window.

The rest of the drive to school was silent; the secrets building a rift between them, in the space.

Scott shifted, in the back seat, the tension eating at him. He felt guilty, for all of the secrets. He felt worse, that Stiles was in on them. It was better, for Gail not to know them, though. If she did, there were things that neither Stiles nor him could protect her from.

Sometimes, lies were better than the truth. Gail didn't need to know the reality of her father's death, or anything regarding werewolves, the Hales or the Archers. The less she knew, the better off she was. The truth had ruined things with Allison. The truth had warped Lydia's mind, controlled Jackson and changed Stiles.

It was better, for Gail to remain how she was, as a neutral third party. For all of them; especially, Stiles… While Scott knew that he needed Gail; Stiles relied on her for far more, emotionally. It hadn't been Scott, who'd calmed Stiles down from every panic attack or lapse of focus, he'd had. Scott didn't even vaguely know _how_ to reach Stiles' conscious, when it came to those moments.

It had never been Lydia, who Stiles truly adored and loved. Scott knew this better than anyone else, that it had been Gail. He didn't even think that Stiles realized how much Gail truly impacted his life.

While most people merely tolerated Stiles, Gail enjoyed his company. She looked at him as if he were the sun, the moon and the stars. Scott had been her confidante, once, in regards to her feelings for Stiles. For years, Mona had turned to him, when it came to the ever evolving relationship that Stiles and Gail shared. Scott couldn't remember a time that things between Stiles and Gail hadn't been complicated or double-sided.

They were the weirdest people he knew, after all.

Glancing between them, Scott frowned, guilt overwhelming him. Should they tell Gail? Would that fix things, or just ruin them?

He wasn't sure.

Everything was a mess.

He'd have to talk to Stiles, when they had study hall.


	4. Chapter 04: Juxtaposition

Please, enjoy and review!

* * *

**Chapter 04:** Juxtaposition.

_Fascination ends, here we go, again. 'Cause it's cold outside, when you call me home. 'Cause it's hot inside, isn't that enough? I'm not in love. Could it be that, time has taken its toll? _– "**Not in Love**," by Crystal Castles.

* * *

"She looked stoned." Stiles stated, once they'd escorted Gail to her class and headed to their own. Despite the objections of their teachers, Scott and Stiles had coerced their guidance counselor into matching their schedules, each year. They'd separated their schedules from Gail's; in an attempt to place distance from her, allowing her further protection from harm.

"Do you think she's on her meds, again?" Scott asked, curious. He hadn't been able to smell the overwhelming, pungent scent of her medication melded into her naturally fragrant scent. Gail smelled like spring, love and baked goods. After her father's death, Gail had been placed on medication to quell the frequent moments of panic that plagued her. Stiles shrugged.

"I don't know. She could be, but Mona would tell us, if she was having a hard time," He reasoned. "… Wouldn't she?"

"She smelled off, this morning," Scott noted. "Not like her medicine, though. She smelled like the forest and ash."

Stiles sighed, as they entered the classroom and flopped into his desk at the far back of the room. "Gail hates the forest." He remarked, lamely, befuddled.

Scott shrugged, slumping into the desk next to Stiles. "It was definitely the forest, that I smelled on her. It was all over her house, too."

Stiles frowned, digging through his backpack for his notebook, pausing as he thought of something. "Could they have spread her dad's ashes?" He wondered, aloud, looking up at Scott in alarm. Gail would have told them. She always told them everything.

It was, literally, impossible for Gail not to share every detail of most things, with them. Especially, something so important, as that… The bell rang. Scott shrugged, once more, turning to sift through his own backpack. Stiles mind raced, mulling over everything, barely noticing as the lesson began.

* * *

"Alright, students!" The teacher called them to attention, pulling Gail from her thoughts. "Today, we will begin the first project of this year," A few students groaned, in response. "I will pair you into groups, and assign you a topic. You will have two weeks to write the rough draft of your paper and gather factual research. Any questions?"

Gail bit her lip, stress blossoming in her chest. A project, already? Looking around, she found only two familiar people, in the entire room. Alison Archer and Lydia Martin, who sat next to each other, close enough that their arms brushed, when they moved. Tweedledum and Tweedledee; as contrasting as day and night, in their looks and mannerisms…

The teacher passed by her, dropping two sheets of paper on her desk. At the top, were written two names. Gail Perry and Isaac Lahey. Looking around, Gail caught the eyes of a meek looking guy, his hair messy and his blue eyes strong and piercing; calculating, even. This must be Isaac, she reasoned.

He looked familiar. He was probably on the lacrosse team, judging by his toned biceps and broad shoulders. They all held their body weight in the same manner; carrying a stick and ready to sprint a natural habit, after so many practices. Gail wasn't sure that she liked him. Something about his manner was off; tense, dark and slightly off putting.

"Everyone, form your groups and get to work!" The teacher bellowed, sliding into her desk chair and clicking away at her outdated laptop. Gail sighed; heaving herself from her desk, she grabbed her backpack and notebook; making her way over to the tense boy she thought to be Isaac.

"Isaac, right?" Gail asked, forcing a smile. He nodded, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. Gail relaxed, comforted by the friendly nature of his expression.

"That would be me." He responded; deep voice cheerful and languid, soothing her further. Gail nodded, dropping into the chair next to him. He leaned in, slightly, to read their assignment and they set to work.

* * *

"You're late." Stiles observed grumpily, looking up from his half eaten carton of French fries, as Gail dropped her bag onto the lunch table. Scott grimaced, eyeing Stiles warily. He'd been moody, since first hour.

"I had to run to the library and get some books, with my Psychology partner," Gail sighed, sliding into her seat. "You guys might know him. His name is Isaac?"

Scott perked up, smiling, "Lahey?"

"That's the one," Gail nodded.

"He's a cool guy." Scott stated; cutting off his response at Stiles glower, hastily shoveling a forkful of overcooked lasagna in his mouth. Gail rolled her eyes, turning to Stiles.

"What's wrong with you?" She questioned. "Cheer up, buttercup."

"Did you go to the forest, recently?" Stiles retorted, before he could stop himself. Gail shifted, her shoulders hunching over.

"Yeah," She sighed, wistfully.

"Why?" Stiles silently begged his mouth to stop working.

"To say goodbye, to dad," Gail sniffed, wrinkling her nose down at the tray of food in front of her. "Mom took me."

Scott nodded, absent-mindedly chewing. School food was the worst. Stiles pouted, sad that she hadn't told him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, looking between his fries and Gail.

"You haven't been around to tell, S." Gail sighed, slouching back against her chair.

Scott grimaced, feeling guilty.

Stiles glared at his fries.

Gail shifted, again, picking at her food.

They didn't say much, for the rest of that lunch.

* * *

"Do you think we should tell her?" Scott wondered, aloud, turning to look at Stiles. Stiles shrugged; sliding books on the shelf out, halfway, before pushing them back into order. Scott groaned, sliding down to the library floor.

"She deserves to know," Scott reasoned. "She needs to be safe, though. What would happen to her, if anyone knew?"

"The same thing that has happened to all of us," Stiles snorted. "She'll end up twisted as fuck."

"It's still a problem."

Stiles groaned, "You know that I'm a fan of ignoring problems, Scott."

"You're the King of problems, Stiles." Scott sighed, running his hands over his face. Stiles frowned.

"I am not," He sniffed, indignantly.

Scott chuckled, "You're worse than a third grader, who didn't get their way."

"I like to think that I dress better than a third grader, Scott." Stiles bit out, motioning to his carefully coordinated outfit. His monochromatic, striped pull-over matched his Nike's and slim fit jeans.

Scott bit back a laugh, grinning at his best friend.

Stiles shrugged, pulling out a thick book on Degas and dropping to the floor, across from Scott.


End file.
